The first thing I registered was not the morning sun, but a wiggling sensation against my ribs.
"Attack!" a soft voice whispered, followed by a relentless assault of fingers digging into my sides.
My eyes flew open, and I instinctively jerked back, letting out a sound that was far less dignified than a Young Master should make. Meira was hovering over me, her hair a chaotic curtain of silk, her eyes dancing with a mischievous light I had never seen before.
"Mercy!" I laughed, trying to catch her wrists. "I surrender! The Chen Family surrenders!"
"Too late for surrender," she teased, her fingers finding a particularly sensitive spot near my waist. "You slept like a log. I've been awake for minutes, bored out of my mind. This is your punishment."
"Bored?" I managed to trap her hands, pinning them gently to the mattress on either side of her head. I reversed our positions so I was hovering over her. Her laughter died down, replaced by a breathless smile, her chest heaving slightly beneath her white inner robe. "I thought my presence was enough to entertain you for a lifetime."
"You have a very high opinion of your sleeping face," she countered, though her gaze dropped to my lips. "It drools a little."
"Liar," I said, leaning down to brush my nose against hers. "I don't drool. I sparkle."
"You snore," she whispered, tilting her chin up.
"I purr," I corrected. "Like a majestic tiger."
"More like a contented house cat."
She pulled one hand free and traced the line of my eyebrow. The playfulness softened into something warmer. "Good morning, Arya."
"Good morning, Meira."
It was a morning kiss that tasted of sleep and warmth. When I pulled back, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, savoring it, before blinking them open with a reluctant sigh.
"I have to go," she said, though she made no move to get up. "I came here secretly. If the servants find my bed empty and your door locked... well, the scandal would be legendary."
"Let them talk," I murmured, burying my face in the crook of her neck. "We'll tell them I kidnapped you. I'll take the blame. 'Villainous Young Master Steals Fiancée.' It has a nice ring to it."
"And my father would skin you alive," she said, running her fingers through my hair. "And then he would skin me for letting you. We have to be smart, Arya. Just for a little while longer."
I groaned, rolling off her and staring up at the wooden ceiling. "Tradition. My greatest enemy."
"Your greatest ally," she corrected, sitting up and pulling the silk sheet around her. She looked at the window, gauging the light. "The sun isn't fully up yet. If I leave now, I can make it back to the Su estate before the main household stirs. My horse is waiting at the rear gate."
"You rode a horse?" I asked, propping myself up on an elbow.
"Flying is prohibited in the city limits at night, you know that," she said, swinging her legs off the bed. "And I didn't want to alert the aerial patrols. A horse was quieter."
"I'll go with you," I said, standing up.
She turned to look at me, shaking her head. "No. It's too risky. If we're seen together..."
"If you're seen alone, it's dangerous," I countered, walking over to the wardrobe. "Jin Hao is out there. A maniac with a treasure that eats cultivation. Do you think I'm going to let you ride through the dark streets alone?"
"I am a Late Stage Foundation Establishment cultivator," she reminded me, standing tall and letting the sheet fall. "I can handle a thief."
"And I am your husband," I said, grabbing a fresh set of robes. "Or near enough. My job is to worry. Besides..." I threw a grin over my shoulder. "I want to see you home. Consider it an escort mission."
She bit her lip, trying to maintain her stern expression, but failed. "You just want to delay me leaving."
"Guilty," I said. "Is it working?"
"Yes," she admitted softly.
I walked over to a large chest in the corner of the room. I had been saving this for a special occasion, but looking at her now, standing in the morning light, I knew there would be no better time.
"Wait," I said. "Before you dress."
I opened the chest. Inside was a garment that didn't belong to this world.
It was a dress I had acquired a long time ago, during a journey to the far west or so I would tell anyone who asked. In reality, it was a design from my memories of Earth, custom made by a master weaver I had commissioned in secret a few days ago. It was a fusion of the traditional Hanfu and a modern evening gown.
It was made of Midnight Silk, a fabric that shimmered like a starry sky. The cut was slimmer than the traditional robes, designed to accentuate the waist and the curve of the hips, with a high collar and long sleeves that looked like woven mist.
I lifted it out, the fabric flowing like water through my fingers.
"What is that?" Meira breathed, stepping closer. "I've never seen that style before."
"I bought it while traveling," I lied easily. "From a merchant who claimed it came from a land beyond the sea. When I saw it... I thought of you. I thought of how the night sky looks jealous when you walk under it."
I held it up against her. "It's perfect."
She reached out, touching the Midnight Silk. "It's beautiful, Arya. But... it's so... fitted."
"Try it on," I urged softly, my voice a gentle coax. I held the dress out, its Midnight Silk shimmering in the soft light. "Let me help you."
She hesitated for a second, her gaze flicking from the dress to my eyes, a question in their depths. The vulnerability was beautiful. Then, with a slow nod, she turned her back to me, presenting me with the intricate knot of her dark hair and the delicate curve of her neck. It was an act of complete trust, an unspoken invitation. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm against my Golden Core.
I moved behind her, my fingers brushing against the bare skin of her back as I carefully helped her slip into the dress. The Midnight Silk was cool and impossibly soft beneath my fingertips, sliding over her skin like a second shadow. It was so unlike the layered traditional robes she usually wore, which obscured more than they revealed. This dress celebrated every graceful curve of her body. The faint scent of moonpetal and her unique spiritual essence, usually masked by her outer garments, now rose to greet me.
My hands found the delicate silver clasps at the back, intricate pieces that needed a steady touch. My fingers lingered on her spine, feeling the warm skin beneath the sheer silk, the subtle tremor that ran through her as I worked. It was a simple act, helping her dress, yet it felt deeply intimate.
When the last clasp was secured, I stepped back, my gaze sweeping over her. She turned slowly, her movement almost shy.
And my breath caught in my throat.
It fit her as if it had been woven onto her body, a celestial garment tailored by the gods themselves. The dark fabric made her skin look like porcelain, so pale and flawless that it seemed to glow from within. The cut highlighted her figure in a way that was modest yet breathtakingly sensual. It spoke of an undeniable allure that was both elegant and devastating. She looked like a queen of the night, a silent goddess of the moon.